"Interesting! This is too interesting!"
The Sword God rose from his seat and slowly approached, step by step.
"Where on earth did Ghislaine find you two clowns?"
"One wants to kill Orsted, and the other wants to test my sword!"
The Sword God, Gal Farion, walked toward Cui Ciyou, laughing wildly.
When he reached Cui Ciyou, the pressure radiating from him erupted like a flash flood.
Had that pressure been directed at any single Sword Saint in the Sword Sanctum, it would have been enough to send him collapsing to the ground, disgracing himself on the spot.
Yet Cui Ciyou stood perfectly straight beneath that pressure, like a javelin. No, like an ancient sword planted atop a mountain, unmoved by wind or rain.
Gal Farion's smile faded slightly.
His hazy, seemingly drunken eyes sharpened, a hint of appreciation appearing in them.
"Boy," Gal Farion said softly, in a voice only the two of them could hear.
"There's no trace of battle aura on you."
Everyone present could see that he had no battle aura.
Cui Ciyou lacked the outward-flowing energy that burned like flames, so characteristic of swordsmen-or rather, warriors.
"You're empty. You... have no magic power."
Gal Farion's perception was keener than anyone else's.
In the world as it was now, even the powerless merely possessed amounts of magic power too small for ordinary people to detect.
Even if there was only 0.000001, that was still magic power.
Yet the Sword God, Gal Farion, truly could not sense any magic power in Cui Ciyou.
And there was something else strange... Cui Ciyou gave the Sword God a peculiar impression.
This man felt like "nothingness" to him.
No, not "nothingness," but a "black hole."
It was as though this fellow had sucked everything into himself.
With all the information